


Problem, Child?

by CHANN3L_CHAS3R



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Kyman - Freeform, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Stendy - Freeform, also just a lot of cussing in general, cartman got therapy at some point, creek - Freeform, f-slur used in a casual fashion, he's still a haughty jackass tho, i just swear too much and this is a fitting outlet, in the least romantic sense possible, it doesnt lead to anything and its not intended to be shippy, its cartman what do you expect, there'll be actual bunny soonish i promise, they're like 17 probably, those pairings aren't in the fic yet but they will be, which i can't even blame on it being sp fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28405671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CHANN3L_CHAS3R/pseuds/CHANN3L_CHAS3R
Summary: Butters turns up at Cartman's doorstep in the wee hours of morning, half-dead and in dire need of help.
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	Problem, Child?

Eric Cartman awoke at the fine hour of way-too-goddamn-early-o-clock, to the sound of his doorbell being mashed repeatedly as if it had deeply and personally offended whoever was assaulting it. 

He screwed his eyes shut. It was a weekend, and as far as he was concerned, if the sun was still asleep then he should be, too. Whoever was at the door was a whole lot of not-his-problem. Cartman blindly groped for a pillow and mashed it over his head. If they managed to wake Liane up, then great. She could deal with it. 

It took about a minute of unrelenting ding-donging for Cartman to remember that his mom was staying over at a "client's" place for the night, according to the note he found on the fridge when he got home from school. He pulled the pillow tighter over his ears, to no avail. It took only another minute for him to get fed up with the noise.

"ARRIGHT, FUCK, I HEAR YOU!" Cartman bellowed. He sat up swiftly with energy borne of pure annoyance, hurling the pillow at his door. "HOLD YOUR WHORES, I'LL BE DOWN IN A MINUTE!"

That shut them up. Cartman briefly considered just rolling over and going back to bed, but he was painfully tired and didn't want to drag out whatever was happening longer than he had to. Muttering several creative combinations of cusses and curses, he flung his legs over the side of the bed, flicked his bedside lamp on-- _ ow, _ his  _ eyes _ \--snagged a pair of basketball shorts off the floor, and managed to tug them on over his boxers after two clumsy tries. Cartman glanced out the window, at the pale yellow street-light glinting off the half-frozen slurry of slush and snow outside. He considered throwing on a jacket, but he wouldn't be at the door long if he had anything to say about it. So he plodded down the stairs, to the front door, and yanked it open with the pissiest frown he could muster.

Cartman wasn't sure who he'd expected at the door, but it certainly wasn't Butters Stotch, of all people. The towheaded teen stood stock-still, arms hanging limp at his sides, breath clouding out like smoke, in nothing but his usual thin fleece, some sweatpants, and snow boots. His clothes hung heavily off his frame, and clung to his skin in some places; Butters was obviously soaked to the bone, pale as a stick of chalk, with lips, ears, and fingertips cherry-red from the sheer cold. 

"Stotch. What the  _ actual _ fuck?" Cartman growled. He ran a hand through his mussed-up bedhead and shot Butters a sleep-dazed glare. "Y'look like a... damn, fuckin' corpse, dude, didja walk all th--"

"I think I killed my dad."

"I--uh." Cartman's meandering train of thought screeched to a crashing halt. He took in Butters' stiff body language, paired with a sightless stare; he was looking Cartman dead in the eyes, but also not looking at him at all, and the older teen did not like that one singular bit. Cartman's eyes flickered over his clothes again--were those small, dark spatters on the sleeves what he thought they were? There were some dark flecks on his chest, too, now that he was looking. Cartman blinked once, twice, looked back up at Butters. "What, um... come again?"

The direction of the frigid breeze shifted, and Cartman noticed the soft and distant sound of wailing sirens, carried on the midnight wind. 

"Also I burned the house down."

Cartman's immediate thought was, _ 'I am not nearly awake enough for this' _ , before considering if he was even awake at all, or at least lucid. His next thought was, _ 'I better not need my goddamn meds adjusted again.' _ His third thought was,  _ 'I should probably say something.' _

"God-fucking-dammit Butters, you couldn't've lost your shit at a more decent hour than three in the morning?" is what fell out of his mouth as he tried to process what was going on.

Butters' sudden bark of a laugh made Cartman jump. The blonde's arms shot up to wrap around himself, and he leaned onto the doorframe, gazing listlessly past Cartman at... whatever it was going on in his mind's eye right now. He tittered a bit before taking in a shaking breath and releasing it as something between a laugh and a sob.

"I'm--I don't,  _ I don't want, _ to... can't, just--just, I-I  _ need _ to, to..." Butters trailed off with little indication of starting again, breathing shallow but heavy. He dropped his head against the doorframe with a sudden and painful-sounding **klonk** that made Cartman jump again. He didn't look back up, just... stood there.

"Whoa, hey, eyes up here, Butterbrain." Not really sure what else to do, Cartman plopped a meaty hand on Butters' shoulder and gave him a shake. He hazily thought to himself that Butters' shoulder felt  _ extraordinarily _ cold, and that it was weird that he wasn't shivering. Then, it finally hit Cartman's sleep-addled brain that the skinny teen was hypothermic and he should probably do something about that before he had a dead friend and a police investigation to deal with. He groaned, suddenly very much awake. 

"Okay,  _ no, _ don't you dare fuckin'... die on my porch, or some shit. C'mon, this way, numbnuts," he groused, herding Butters inside, who shuffled in absently. 

Cartman clicked his tongue, thinking, then leaned out the door and glanced around, checking to see if any lights were on in his neighbors' houses. But, no--it looked like he was the only one up. His eyes fell on Kyle's porch next door, and he briefly considered towing Butters over there and making it the Jew's problem, instead. God knows the ginger mother hen and  _ his _ ginger mother hen wouldn't hesitate to help.

...But, then Cartman would miss out Butters' first-hand account of what went down, and  _ damn, _ was he curious. Plus, if he shoved Butters off on Kyle, Shrieking Sheila would doubtless ensure the kid would be in custody before sun-up. Cartman wasn't yet sure what he was gonna do about that part, but he had more immediate shit to handle, so he shut the door with a soft  _ click, _ grabbed Butters by the forearm, and tugged the disoriented kid upstairs. 

Park County Schools made it a point, every year, to instruct students on how to identify and handle hypothermia. It was a legitimate danger in a state where wintertime had beaten the other three seasons into cowering submission and ruled with an iron fist for more than half the year. Cartman never paid direct attention to the PSAs, of course, but hearing it thrice a year for his entire school career had beaten it into his thick skull, regardless. He was pretty sure he knew what he needed to do, and he was  _ not _ looking forward to it. 

Cartman guided Butters up to his room, then took him by the shoulders and looked him dead in the eye.

"Butters?" 

No response. Cartman gave him a small shake.

_ "Butters!" _

Nothing. Cartman furrowed his brow and snapped his fingers in Butters' face. 

"Ay, Earth to Leopold!"  _ Snap, snap, snap! _ "Say something, Stotch, you're creeping me the fuck out." 

Butters blinked, blinked again, then squinted at him, truly focusing on Cartman for the first time since he'd arrived. He slurred something unintelligible that sounded vaguely like a question. Cartman furrowed his brow. He wasn't sure if Butters was acting this way from the cold, from the shock of whatever it was he did catching up to him, or both, but it was really starting to bother him.

"Okay, listen up--I'm pretty sure you're dying and we need to warm you up right now, immediately." Sighing deeply, Cartman pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, then looked back up at Butters. "Uh... no homo."

Butters blinked slowly. "Aren't'chu bi?" he mumbled.

"Correct," Cartman replied, "which is why it's  _ especially _ critical that I make the disclaimer 'no homo', 'cause we have exactly one option to keep you alive right now, and that option is doing that fag-ass thing where you strip to your skivvies and cuddle for body heat. Trust me, I'd just chuck you in the shower if I could, but I'm 99% certain your fingers would fall off or something and then Kenny would strangle me with my own intestines."

Butters, once more, gave a slow, stupid blink. "What?"

"Jesus Christ--we don't have time for this. Take everything off and get in the bed over there, okay? We're gonna warm you up."

Butters continued to stare at him like a cow stares at an oncoming train. "What?"

"Oh, son of a bitch." Cartman was gonna have to do it himself. God strike him dead. "If Kenny kills me for this I'm gonna haunt your ass forever, Stotch." 

It took two uncomfortable minutes of manhandling a stiff and incoherent Butters, but Cartman managed to get him out of his frigid, soaked-through clothes, and--oh. 

_ Oh. _

Those... those were bruises. A  _ lot _ of bruises, in varying states of freshness. 

Cartman found himself very much hoping that Butters was wrong about Steven Stotch being dead, if only so he and Kenny could beat the man to a pile of bloody, unidentifiable giblets themselves. It occurred to him that Butters mentioned nothing of his mother--then Butters sneezed, and Cartman gave himself a mental slap. Warmth now, thirst for revenge and prying for juicy details later.

Cartman guided Butters over to his bed and got him under the covers, and Butters immediately curled up, soaking up the warmth Cartman had left behind. Cartman shucked his own basketball shorts, and then realized that they would need more than one comforter for this, to retain heat; ever since he'd hit puberty and become a human radiator, Cartman had had to sleep with just the one cover or else wake up drowning in his own sweat. Cartman rushed down to his mother's room quickly as he was able and grabbed her duvets, and an extra blanket to boot, very pointedly  _ not _ thinking about what fluids they may or may not be stained with. He also snagged her heating pad.

When he tromped his way back upstairs, Cartman saw Butters standing in the middle of his room again, naked as a jaybird and nearly as blue, looking around in a daze. He blinked at Cartman, who scowled.

"C'n I have some undies?"

"No."

_ "You're _ wearin' undies," Butters protested as Cartman chucked the two duvets and the blanket onto his bed and plugged in the heating pad.

"Because mine aren't soaked in ice water and I am  _ not _ spooning you naked."

"Can't I borrow some'a yours?"

"Butters, you are physically incapable of borrowing my underwear, I could fit two of you in each leg,  _ get back in the fucking bed." _

Butters pouted, but obeyed, much to Cartman's relief, sliding back under the old blue comforter. 

"Here." Cartman handed Butters the heating pad, which he'd put on the lowest setting. He spoke slowly and made sure Butters was looking him in the eye when he instructed him, "Hold that against your stomach, and keep your arms wrapped around yourself, okay?" 

Butters was at least coherent enough now to follow instructions, and a slight shiver would race across his body every few seconds, so the hypothermia was already starting to abate. "Alright, good. Tuck your hands under your armpits--yeah, like that. Keep your arms tight against yourself. Now, turn the other way and face the wall."

Alright, that part was done. Cartman took a moment to fix the covers so all four were layered right. 

Then, he braced himself. 

Then, he got into bed behind Butters, and--

_ "Jesus-bucketfucking-Christ-on-a-stick-holy-shitbiscuits-you're-ice-fukkin-cold-how-are-you-even-alive-still- _ **_auuuuuuuuuugh_ ** _ -ohmygod-ohmygod-killmenow-holyfuck--" _

\--settled himself around the frigid blonde for maximum skin contact. Butters was lucky that he was so damn tiny in comparison to Cartman. Although, after Cartman's last few growth spurts that could be said for most people. After a moment or two, once he'd shaken the shock and gotten his brain to work again, Cartman pulled the covers over their heads so the heat couldn't escape. 

It took all of ten seconds for Cartman to become a pile of shivering goosebumps; not a single inch of Butters' body could be considered 'warm' by anyone but a snowman,  _ maybe _ . At least Butters had been wearing waterproof snow boots. Cartman wasn't so sure how his ears and fingers were going to fare after all this, but if Butters had been in sneakers he'd definitely be losing a toe or ten. As of right now, though, his feet were the warmest part of his body (which wasn't saying much.) 

The next step, make sure parts of Butters didn’t end up falling off. Cartman, after a little wiggling and re-adjusting, brought his hands up to his mouth to warm them with his breath. 

"Y'know," Cartman mused as he rubbed Butters' ears with his palms, more to himself than to his impromptu houseguest, who couldn't really hear him anyways, "I have long and s-s-storied history of shoving things up my ass, d-dressing in d-d-drag and having a great time doing it, kissing guys, and even fuh-f-fucking a couple. I tell you this so you know that it's on g-g-good authority when I say: this is the gayest shit I have ever endured, and you owe me b-b-big time, B-Butters."

"Humazzawha," the half-conscious teen mumbled back.

"I'm gonna as-s-s-sume that means  _ 'My life debt is all y-y-yours, Eric, th-thanks for saving my d-d-dumb ass.' _ " Cartman dropped his hands and gave Butters a pat on the shoulder to get his attention. "Hey, make sure you've got your f-f-fingers on the heating pad, okay? I've only guh-g-got two h-h-hands." Butters shifted a little bit in response. "Also don't f-f-fall asleep," Cartman added, flicking one of Butters' ears.

Butters yelped and jerked, startled. "That hurt!" he whined.

"Good, that means you can fuh-f-feel ‘em. I c-can't r-remuh-m-m-memb--ugh, fuck. Can't  _ remember _ why, but I'm p-pretty shuh-shuh-sure you're not sup-p-posed to let hypothermic people sleep, so... d-d-don't." 

It went that way for a good three minutes or so, with Cartman warming his hands up, then Butters' ears or nose, then giving Butters a shake to keep him awake, over and over again until finally,  _ finally, _ Butters started shivering. Not as hard as Cartman was, but it was a start. He gave a mental sigh of relief--Cartman never thought he'd be thankful to hear the rattling click of chattering teeth. If Butters' condition hadn't started improving soon, he would've had to call an ambulance. God only knows if anyone would get to see Butters again before he got hauled away, especially if he was right about offing his dad. 

_...Jesus. _ Butters  _ actually _ killing someone  _ on purpose. _ Granted, pretty much everyone in South Park was waiting for the day that Butters fucking snapped, except most folks imagined Butters snapping as 'Getting into a screaming match with his parents and running away or calling CPS, or maybe even giving his dad another good, solid, well-deserved kick in the nuts'. 

_ Paternicide _ and fucking  _ arson, _ though? Not so much.

Then again, with those bruises... well. It put things in a different light. Cartman couldn't believe Butters Stotch, the worst liar in the state of Colorado, had managed to keep that kind of abuse so well-hidden for god-knows-how-long.

Kenny was absolutely going to flip his shit.

"Oh,  _ shit, _ K-K-Kenny!"

"Huh, Kenny? Whuh-wh-wh-where?" Butters stuttered, somewhat more alert than he'd been before.

"No, not--I muh-mean, I n-n-need to call your boyfriend, he'll fuckin' murder me if s-something hap-p-pens to you without him h-h-here. And we c-c-could use the help."

"...'S not m'boyfren'."

"Yeah, uh-huh.”

“‘S  _ not!”  _

“If you s-s-say so, Buttmunch."

Butters was correct, technically. Kenny and Butters weren't actually together, but they'd grown incredibly close in middle school and had been nigh-inseparable ever since, becoming the best of friends. 'The best of friends', in the sense that Kenny was too much of an insecure bitch to stop mooning over Butters and actually ask him out, and Butters was too much of an oblivious dimwit to notice that Kenny was mooning over him in the first place. Which meant, of course, that Cartman would never miss an opportunity to rip on either of them for their relationship, or lack thereof.

Cartman stuck an arm outside the blanket cocoon and fumbled around for a bit, nearly knocking his lamp over, before finding his phone on the end table. He settled back in and dialed Kenny. One minute of ringing, two minutes, but no response, and he was shunted over to voicemail. He dialed again; the same thing. Cartman spat a curse, dialed one more time, heard one ring, two rings, then:

_ click _

"F-f- _ finally!" _

"Whuzzah, Cartm'n? Is--" Kenny interrupted himself with a yawn, long and drawn-out, "--ugh. Izzat you?" He was groggy and grumpy and clearly confused, sleep-drunk and slurring.

"Yep. Morning, asshole."

"Mornin'? What the fuck're y'doin' callin' me at--" there was a pause as Kenny presumably checked his phone clock, "--three in th'damn mornin', man, the hell?" 

"Cuddling naked with your b-boyfriend."

Silence. Then a crystal-clear,  _ "What?" _

"You heard me."

"Cartman what the  _ goddamn fuck--" _

"You're welcome, b-by the way, he was l-l-literally about to freeze to death. Fun f-f-fact, he apparently a-a-suh-s-suh--f-fuck." Cartman steadied his jaw and enunciated, "He apparently  _ assaulted _ his dad and b-burned his house d-d-down tonight."

Silence on the other end.

"Well?"

"If this is supposed to be your idea of a joke, I'm shoving my foot up your ass.  _ Literally. _ I will shove my foot all the way up your ass and then axe it off and leave you to deal with the consequences, Cartman, this isn't fucking funny."

"Yeah, well, if this is a j-j-joke, I'm not the one l-laughing. He's so f-fucking c-c-cold I think my dick's gone concave."

_ "I swear to God if you touched him--" _

"Kenneth McCormick, there is no amount of love or m-m-money on this p-planet that could convince me to fuck Mister 'Aww Shucks Fellas' and you  _ d-d-damn well know that, _ you guh-g-green-eyed monster. Also, I've got b-b-boxers on. Now get your poor, jealous ass over here so I can give b-b-bedwarmer duties to someone who fuh-f-fucking wants it and we can f-figure out what to d-d-do next."

"...Hoo, boy. Okay." Kenny sounded fully awake now, and also more static-y; it sounded like he'd put himself on speakerphone. Cartman could hear him rustling around his room as he got dressed. "Can I talk to him?"

"You can t-t-try. He's been puh, p-pretty loopy, though." Cartman held the phone out in front of Butters and hit the speakerphone button. He jiggled his shoulder to get Butters' attention. "Ay, Butthead, it's your kn-kn-knight in shining tinfoil. He wants to make sure you're not d-dead or being m-m-molested."

_ "Kenny!" _ Butters slurred happily, pawing at the phone and almost knocking it out of Cartman's hand. "I got r-ruh-real cold 'n, and--" he hiccupped, and sniffled, "--and I did some, s-some aw-awf-f-ful things tuh-t-t-tonight, Ke-Kenny." Butters had started stuttering from both the swelling emotions, and the fact that he was finally getting warm enough to really start the shiver engine. "I duh-d-d-duh-don't kn-kn-know if, I duh, don't--K-Kenny I'm in _ r-r-real _ bad truh-truh-troub-b-ble, I'm s-suh, I'm s-s-so sc-scared!" 

Cartman grimaced. "Oh, Jesus, please don't start c-c-crying."

"Cartman, shut your fucking pie-hole and be nice,  _ or else," _ Kenny snapped. 

"N-nah it's oh, oh-kuh-k-kay," Butters sniffled, wiping at his eyes with one mostly-thawed hand. "Eh-Er-r-ruh... Eric's been ruh, r-r-really nice ah-alr-ruh-ready. Huh-he's a, a _ r-real _ good puh, p-p-pillow!"

Kenny's tinny laugh burst from the phone's speaker at that. 

"Thanks, Butters," Cartman grumbled. "I swear to G-G-God, Kenny, if you make a f-f-fat joke I'm ch-chucking him out the window."

"I don't have to, Butters already did."

_ "Kinny!" _

"Cool your jets, big guy, I'll be there in twenty. Oh, and if anything happens to Butters on your watch, you're a dead man."

"Wow, thanks."

"B-b-bye Kenny!"

"See you soon, Buttercup."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, new fandom!
> 
> This is my first attempt at an SP fic and, to be completely honest, I'm writing this by the seat of my pants and have only the vaguest idea of what comes next. I'm a massive perfectionist and I've written so, so, SO MUCH that I've never published just because I didn't think it was gold-standard, or because I love writing long stories and wanted to get the story beats 100% nailed down before I started writing/publishing. As you can tell by the lack of any other fics on this account whatsoever, that doesn't tend to actually ever happen. 
> 
> So, this time, I thought I'd try something new and publish this even though I'm still pretty iffy on how it turned out and I don't really know where to go from here. Better than not publishing at all! Maybe this'll be the start of me kicking my own ass into gear and finally writing regularly. God knows I have the time [side-eyes the entire year of 2020]. All that being said, I may end up deleting this and incorporating it into another of the SP fic ideas in my fic-idea folder instead, maybe. Life is a mystery! Who knows! Not me!
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to volunteer as tribute for beta reading in the future I would love you forever and also would be more than happy to beta read for you in return. Or, fuck, if any other fic writers want to message me on Discord so we can talk about SP fic ideas and trade writing critiques that would be cool also. Is there a Discord community for SP fic? If there is, and any of y'all know about it, I'd love an invite, purdy-please.
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome, and thanks for reading!


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